When a Plan Falls Apart

When a Plan Falls Apart

Mary the Wollstonecraft Woman

© Copyright 2023 by Mary the Wollstonecraft Woman

This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote a lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.

When a Plan Falls Apart

Christy, my wife, and I took a trip last weekend to the coast. Los Angeles was hot and dry, and a wicked wind blew down from the mountains, putting my nerves on a raw edge. Even at night, the Santa Anna wind blew through, adding the oppressive heat.

My wife didn't notice the heat, her own body heat was hotter than the wind. She always ran warm, about 99.9 or 100 degrees. And it wasn't a fever, not from illness, at least. No, her fire, sparked by her natural lust, is always there. For years Christy made no secret she wanted us to try swinging. Me, I had only a passing interest in the idea.

Her continuous harping, pestering, nagging, whatever you want to call it, caused me to weaken on the idea. I haven't an idea where she found it, but she had this sex newspaper. The fuck rag advertised a bash open to members and nonmembers alike at a local swing club. Also, it said, "single men and women are welcome at the party."

If I'm honest, I can't keep up with my wife, and the thought of watching her fucking another man while I fuck his wife sparked my imagination. With this said, I had reservations about opening this door to our relationship.

We'd only been married a year. I'm 24 years old, and Christy was 21. We had a lot of years ahead of us. This swinging thing, well, it would be a leap, not a step. Still, she so wanted to try it, and maybe it would be what she hoped for.

"Can we please go there?" Christy looked at me with her big, bright blue eyes. "We'll just do a soft swing, no fucking just oral. Please?"

"Okay," I said, as my cock reacted positively. How my wife had stayed a virgin until I fucked her on our honeymoon, shit fire, I don't know. In fact, that is the great mystery of my wife. In the back of my mind, a pestering thought perturbed me: This might be a mistake.

My desires were twofold, to give her what she wanted, and hopefully, she'd realize she didn't want this after all. The moment we walked into the club, I thought maybe, just maybe, my plan would work. The joint, packed to the rafters, gave off a cheap vibe. Freakish folks crowded into the main room. Women and men in leather, massive amounts of makeup caked on the guys' and gals' faces, intermixed with more normal-looking couples, and tons of single men drifting about.

I felt uneasy, excited, and terrified at the same time. Being we're both short, me 5 feet 5, and her not quite 5 feet tall, I felt threatened in some undefined way. That isn't to say there weren't shorter people, but most, especially the men, stood tall. Women over five foot seven, men well above six feet. And there were the black men, tall, brawny fellers with muscles and massive bulges in their trousers.

Christy always told me she'd never want a cock bigger than mine. "Four inches is a perfect fit," she said. So I felt confident she'd reject any of these men. Besides, only one couple was black, and the rest of the Negros were single, rough-looking men.

The black woman approached us. "Hey, I'm Tidye. Jamil, my husband, and I would love to be with y'all in a room we booked. Let me make it clear, just you and me," Tidye said to my wife.

"Oh, I'd love to try that," Christy said. Turning to me, she turned on the teasing charm. "Please, baby doll, let me try lesbian?"

"Well, yeah, that sounds fine, but what will Jamil and I do?" I asked.

The woman held her hand up, wrapped her fingers like she held a cock, and pumped her fist. "Jacky and her sisters can be your friends. If you know what I mean."

Of course, I understood her meaning. Still, her husband was a giant with the biggest pants bulges I ever saw. I wanted to deny my wife this, but couldn't find any reason. We'd agreed to a soft swap, and what would be better than her with a woman and the husband and me jacking. Though I worried about my cock being compared to his by Christy.

Then again, my wife had always claimed my cock was a perfect size. So, what should I worry about? Off the top of my head, the man was twice my size, height and weight wise, and the more than impressive bulge told him at least two times larger than me there, too.

He walked up to us, tall, dark, handsome, with a touch of darkness not associated with his skin color. The mischievous darkness women find appealing. Stretching out his right hand, he took mine, covering it, and I winced. Not from pain, but fear of what those oversized paws might do to me.

"Sorry, man, didn't realize I squeezed so hard," he said while releasing his hold. "I'm Jamil."

"It's okay. I'm Richard," I said.

"You're okay, Rickie," he said.

The way he said it took me back. I was sure he'd used it as a putdown. However, as it was my niece's name, I might be sensitive to its use for me. Jamil led the way, pulling a key card from his shirt pocket. We went up a flight of stairs and to the far back of the building. He pushed the card into a slot, the light on the door went from red to green, a buzz emitted from the door lock, and Jamil pushed the door open.

Taking my right bicep in his left hand, he guided me into the room. His hand moved to my shoulder, still heading me to a small bed across from a king-sized bed. He turned me toward the bed, and I followed his lead. He turned me again, with a tug and twitch of my shoulder, and sat me on the bed. Again, I did what he wanted. A strange churning rumbled silently through my belly as he talked to me.

"You're alright, Rickie," he repeated himself from before. "Letting my wife and your wife have fun. Lots of boys don't allow this, you know." He stared at me, and his gaze was intense, like he looked inside me.

"Well, it's just a soft swap. What harm can come from that?"

"Your hair, long like it is, really sets your face off. Blonde hair and tanned skin go well together. Yeah, your long hair really shows off how... handsome you are." He lifted his eyebrows three quick times when he said, 'handsome.'

The wives were kissing and undressing each other, but he didn't take his dark eyes off me. As he continued to speak, agitation pestered my mind, shaking my confidence in myself and my projected image.

"If I'm truthful, you're not handsome so much, as lovely," he said as his big mitt left hand moved from my right shoulder across my neck, brushing my long hair as it passed under it to my right shoulder.

"And your hands, oh, baby, you got sweet sexy hands. Long, slender, girlish fingers. They look soft too. Gonna feel incredible on my prick."

"I ain't that way. My wife likes me to wear my hair this way," I insisted in a faltering voice. Trying to move away, he camped his long, large fingers on the front of my shoulder and his giant thumb on the back and squeezed.

"Don't be that way," Jamil said, digging his thumb deep into the back of my shoulder. "I compliment you, and you pull away from me. Your wife understands you better than you do."

"I'm not gay or bi," I said as tears ran from my eyes.

"Sure, I get it." Jamil leaned to my ear and whispered, "You're a girl who wants some cock to suck."

Pulling away from me, Jamil's right hand came to my face. With this oddly gentle touch, he brushed my tears away with his big thumb. First, one cheek, then the other. The man's face was dark and ruggedly handsome. With powerful, brown eyes, he gazed into my own. Moving his hand down my chin, over my neck, passing across my chest, further and further, until he rested his hand on my crotch.

Turning my eyes from him, I glanced toward my wife. Her face buried between the woman's legs, and Tidye's hands clutched the back of Christy's head, forcing her into the woman's crotch.

Precum leaked from my cock, making a small wet spot where his palm rested. Tears gushed from my eyes, streaming down my face.

"Why you doing that? Stop being coy, stop the waterworks, and admit what you want and need. Your clity is all hard, baby doll. Your fem didn't know till I touched you, but you do now."

"I'm not," I told him as he moved his hand back to my face and forced me to look at him again. His breath moved over my face, his lips parted, and he inched closer and closer. I closed my eyes. Jamil's firm lips pushed against mine, his big fat tongue parted my mouth, and he drew me into him.

There was something in his kiss, something electric, something magnetic. The remnants of my masculinity fled me as I melted into him, and my body quivered in his arms. A mixture of fear and wonder ran rampant inside me. Out of some buried instinct, I moved my hand to his crotch. The massive monster responded, swelling, straining to escape its enclosure.

The kiss, soft, tender, and loving, changed to hotter, fleshly, and wanton. My hands wrapped around Jamil, touching the carved body underneath his tight-fitting clothing. He pressed me to the mattress, pulling my shirt free from my chest. Hard, callused hands roamed over my back and chest. Pinching, cupping small pecks like breasts.

Again, his hand found my cock. With a cupping of his hand, I lost my seed. With his ring and pinky, he massaged my balls while his index, middle finger, and thumb milked my cock. Breaking our kiss, Jamil drew back a few inches.

"I'm sorry," I said, horrified at what happened.

"Shh, shh, shh, no, you're a good girl," he whispered.

"This is all so new," I said.

Rising above me, he stripped his t-shirt from his body, exposing his carved rock-like muscles. Reaching up, I ran my hands over his chest, down over his rippled belly. Still, I hadn't smiled or changed my expression, and I was positive I looked like a frightened boy. My tongue darted out, licking my lips. The dryness of my mouth, throat, and lips bothered me.

Standing, he moved away, the knot in my belly clenched tight.

My eyes followed him while a dread spread from my stomach and found my heart. For a moment, I thought it would stop beating. But Jamil didn't leave the room, leave me. Rather, he filled a glass with ice, poured a clear liquid into the glass, and stared at the women fucking on the other bed.

My wife sat with her back to the headboard. The tall black woman was between her legs, and Christy's hips jerked, thrust, and twitched as the woman dined on her. All the while, Christy sucked her thumb, eyeballing me. She mouthed, "I love you." Adding a moment later, a silent, "I knew."

What did she mean, she knew? What did she know? The truth clicked in my brain -- Christy always knew I wasn't a real man. A crushing weight pressed on me. Currents of guilt, shame, and humiliation washed over as so many waves over a beach. I gazed at my cum, covered crotch, seeing my small prick pushed a tiny tent in my khakis.

With no sneaky way to hide from her what was happening, no clandestine corner out of view, I'd exposed my weakness to her. A flaw I hadn't even understood I had. And he, that magnificent stallion, saw through me like glass.

As he ambled back to me, the glass in his hand, his eyes drinking me into him, I pondered if his gaze was deeper. Did he see me for what I was? Had he, with his stare, his powerful touch, and his burning kiss, turned me into what he desired me to be?

Jamil handed me the glass. "Water, drink it down. You gonna need to stay hydrated, baby girl."

Taking the glass, holding it to my mouth, with greed, downed the fluid. Overfilling my mouth, water leaked from the sides of my mouth, flowed over my chin, and down my neck, chest, and belly. Without stopping, I drank the entire glass.

While I guzzled the water, he kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and unzipped them. Pushing the pants down, slow, in a measured way, until his enormous cock sprang out. Defying gravity, it hung straight out away from his crotch. Opening a drawer on the table next to the small bed, he pulled out a bottle and squirted some oil over his prick.

Sitting the bottle on the table, he rubbed the slick lubricant over the shaft, working it into the jet-black flesh.

"Touch me," he said, shoving his cock close to my face.

I shook my head. My mind swirled, my heart raced, and my cock was so hard the denim in my pants tented it.

"You're not making this easy for me." Grabbing my hand, Jamil forced my hand to his bare cock, applying pressure. "Hold it there," he said, pointing to the lump in my pants. "Feel it. Feel what you do to me. Hold me, or I'll tie your wrists to the headboard."

I did as he commanded, as I feared what else he could do.

"Now jack me with your slender hands, baby girl."

"No," I said, the words but jacked him anyway, losing myself in his power.

"Now, baby girl," he said.

My hands moved up and down his shaft. I eyed his throbbing manhood, growing, hardening in my hands. "You want to suck me, baby girl," he said. "I know, I can feel it."

His cock thickened, engorged, growing in my hands, forcing them further apart, then stretching them further down. "See that big ole pecker?" he said. "Oh, baby doll, that's what you're doing to me. Sweet child, you gonna make me nut on your face."

"I don't want to," I said, knowing I was lying through my teeth, but every second he was talking to me, every second I held his cock in my hands, I despised myself more. I hated my week, feckless being.

"The fuck you don't, baby girl?" he asked, forcing me to continue with the strength of his deep, sensual voice.

"No," I repeated. This time, the word no sounded pathetic and unimpressive. Fear is a powerful motivator, and I surrendered to his will momentarily. Forcing my gaze away from his handsome face. Closing my eyes tight, unable to see him, I compelled myself to stop touching him.

"No," I said a third time, loud and forceful. "I'm not a girl, and I'm not a transsexual."

The palm of his hand stung my left cheek. I opened my eyes, tears rolling down my face, the salt stinging my bruised cheek.

"Don't give me that shit. You're as much a girl as your wife. You're sure as shit, not a man, not a real one, at least. What you are, baby doll, is a submissive girl, and you need to be taught the meaning of your new life."

Again, the palm of his other hand stung my right cheek, and a jolt of electricity shot through me. I grabbed his cock with both hands, jacking him, the bulbous mushroom head a mere inch from my nose and lips. I worked him fast for all I was worth.

"Make me cum, sweetheart."

The lotion made a pleasing sound as I massaged his massive rod. The man's prick was thick, veiny, hot, and so fucking stiff.

"Cum for me. Please, give me your load," I begged. In my mind, I kept telling myself I wasn't gay. This thing was this giant forcing me. The awful, humiliating fact shattered me. Why? Because I so wanted this.

The smell and sight of him, the feel of his pre-cum leaking from his cock, drizzling on my bare chest, made me so hard I hurt. The tight khaki pants constrained my cock. Small as it was, my dick was bigger than ever.

"I want your cum on me, shooting in my mouth, on my face, all over me," I whimpered.

"Oh, don't worry, baby girl, I'm gonna fill you up," he said, pushing his cock down, rubbing the tip against my lips, and pushing it against my upper lip. "Open wide, baby doll. Suck that big black cock."

I opened my mouth. Jamil thrust his cock in, jamming it down my throat. I gagged, spewing slobber around the massive root shoved inside my mouth.

"That's right, get it all the way in." He forced my head further down on his fleshy rod. I gagged over and over. "Oh, yeah, baby, eat this up."

Thick rivulets of sputum sprayed down my throat, filling my mouth and leaking around his shaft, dribbling down on my flat, girlish chest.

He clutched my hair, entwining strands between his fingers, gripping tight and twisting, forcing my mouth down. He grunted in a guttural groan as he shoved his cock deep down my throat. It seemed an eternity. Using my hair as a handle of sorts, he fucked my throat. Yanking me away, forcing me to take him way down again, away again, and down.

The sloshing, gagging, and his balls slapping my neck made a symphony. Erotic and addictive, he fucked my throat, and I moaned and groaned as best I might. My secret fantasies found a form for the first time in my life.

A spasm at the base of Jamil's cock traveled through my mouth and shot out into my throat. Another, again, and another. Holding my head against his crotch, Jamil's magnificent prick, buried deep in my throat, spat his seed into my belly.

I couldn't breathe and panic set into my mind. Jamil yanked his cock from me, still spraying his chum. I closed my eyes, and he coated my eyelids with the last of his discharge.

"Now, it's gonna be a full swing," Jamil said, his cock hard as a rock, having lost nothing from cream-pie-ing my face.

"If that's what you want, Daddy," I said, wiping the cum from my face and lapping his salty, savory seed.

"It is, baby girl," he turned from me. My heart sank as he strutted toward my wife. Waving his fist, with his thumb extended, he pointed in my direction, "Tidye, go used that cunt, but don't hurt her."

"Yes, sir," she said, smiling at me with the most wicked grin I'd ever seen. "What a pretty little clity."

Walking to the table by the bed, she opened the drawer from which Jamil had taken the lotion. She pulled out a strap-on harness with a short, broad, black rubber prick sticking out from it. As she worked it on, she asked me a question.

"You a virgin back thar boy?"

Coyly, I nodded and ducked my head, afraid to make eye contact. Only when she moved toward me had I noticed how muscled she was. She squirted lotion on her hand and lubed her rubber pecker.

"Get out of the khaki pants n tidy whiteys, baby girl, and get ready to lose that cherry."

A screech came from my wife. I glanced at her while I finished undressing and saw Jamil whispering to her as he'd whispered to me. He'd shoved the mushroom head inside her pussy opening. Nothing more than his fat cockhead, and the shock of it sent my wife into instant rapture.

She gazed at him with reverence as she gazed at her new god.

Jamil fucked my wife like a wild stallion taking a broodmare. Eventually, we were both face down, ass up, being fucked raw. It was the most humiliating, sensual copulation of our marriage, and we never touched one another.

I'd taken nothing in my ass before. It hurt most excruciatingly, and yet, it kept my cock hard, and I spit three small loads of cum on the sheets under Tydye's raw, rough pounding. She scratched my back and chest, running her long fingernails over my flesh, teasing me relentlessly as she fucked.

"You're a real little bitch girl now," she purred in my ear as my third load dribbled on the sheets.

I moaned, groaned, and made all the same sounds my slut wife made as Jamil pounded her tender white cunt into hamburger. She was beautiful while she moved under this mighty master, this Black Adonis. Her legs quivered, and her ass rippled with each of his thrusts.

Tydye took off the harness, leaving the prick buried balls deep in my ass. She lay on the bed and spread her legs.

"Oh, pussy eater," she said. "Come here, cracker bitch, eat my motherfucking pussy."

Jamil lost another load, climbed off my wife, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and forced her to look at me.

"She's ready," he said to his wife, "Tydye's going to show you how to eat pussy, the right way, Christy."